Xef - Eyelash

I got home from school, slipped off my flip-flops at the entrance and bounded up the stairs, greeting my family members along the way. In my room, I refilled my water bottle, rubbed some hand santizer through my hands and dropped off my backpack then headed back out. As I was running down the stairs to head out for the night, my host brother looked up at me from his soccer game on the playstation and was confused as to why I was going out again. I said back to him: Il faut profiter. (One must take advantage). He chuckled and said: Waaw, ba ci kanam. (Yea, see you later).

Since arriving in Senegal, I’ve been constantly exploring. If something doesn’t work, it’s just another adventure. If it does work out, I usually stumble upon something spectacular. On weekends, I leave Dakar. It’s a necessary break from a lifestyle that isn’t always the most relaxing (but sometimes really is). Three weekends ago was Saly, a very touristy beach town, with the Young Christians of Mermoz. Two weekends ago was Toubab Dialao, a small artisan village overlooking a nice beach, with the entire CIEE group. This weekend was Lac Rose. Not too far outside Dakar, Lac Rose is one of the biggest tourist destinations in Senegal. It’s famous for being the end of the Paris-Dakar rally, but also for its name. At certain times of day, the lake water turns pink.

When we got out there, we were nearly the only tourists. Even before we stepped out of the taxi, there were a number of people clamoring to have us buy their jewelry or use their guide services. We eventually escaped the worst of it and made our way around the lake, walking among huge salt mounds. The lake was more of a brownish color but the stillness of the water, pirogues covered inside-and-out with salt and large white mounds of their haul made for an interesting view. We hired a boat to take us around the lake, with the salt from the water stinging our mosquito bites we’d scratched too much. The wind picked up and the sun came through and the water began to take on a pinkish hue, but it really wasn’t as pink as the poorly photoshopped postcards make it seem.




After making our way back to the shore, we started the walk to the beach. We walked over large sanddunes and past camels. The beach itself stretched on for miles. And we were the only people there. The satisfaction of being able to look one way and see nothing but ocean, sand and forest, then to look the other way and see the same thing was incredibly gratifying. We arrived a little bit before sunset and spent the rest of the evening relaxing. I think I even did yoga for the first time and it felt really good.



All the buzz of Dakar felt so far away. The air was clean, no vendors were hissing at us for our attention, no beggars saying ‘Toubab, xaalis.’ (White person, money). As it got dark we headed back to the hotel and spent the night drinking gin and Africa fun (orange soda) on the beach. I haven’t ever seen the milky way like I did that night. The next morning we woke up early. Two people had been eaten alive by bed bugs and another by mosquitoes. We packed our things and headed towards the main road where the bus going back into Dakar stopped.

It was one of the more miserably hot days we’ve had in a while. Waiting for the bus, we were all dripping sweat. Once the bus did come, things got worse. The ride out had been pleasant. At the time we couldn’t believe it was only 200 francs. The way back, we found out why. After two days in a row that it rained (really heavily for about 45 minutes each day), many of the roads had flooded. The car rapides, buses and taxis stopped moving, but more people kept cramming on to the bus. Unable to find a seat, I stood pressed against the window with my neck bent to the side as I couldn’t stand fully upright. Normally, there would be some air passing through the windows but since traffic wasn’t moving the air was stagnant. It smelled like sweat and at times was suffocating. My claustrophobia didn’t help, but there wasn’t much I could do. I positioned myself as best I could and dealt with it. After about 40 minutes of standstill we made it through the worst of the potholes and bumps along the dirt road. As we neared the city, the roads got better. After a shaky two and a half hours, I haven’t been happier to be back on the solid ground of Dakar. It felt like coming home.

For more of my photos, follow these links.

Plage de Yoff
Saly Niakniakhale
Toubab Dialao
Île de Madeleine & Le Phare des Marmelles
Mermoz & Lac Rose